Litton Guthrie Jackson's Page

As I sit here, watching the last of my candle wax burn down to a small pool in the old brass candlestick, taking these notes in what is boiling down to a near fitful level of desperation, I finally have the time that I need to fully recollect all of the things that have happened in the past two years. The smell of stale tobacco is in the air, and has probably sunken into the upholstery. Photos sit in cracked frames on the table beside the typewriter. My betrothed, Annie. Dear, sweet Annie. My… Continue

My name is Litton Guthrie Jackson.  This is the first of, what will hopefully be, many entries which will one day compose my memoirs.  Immediately following the shameful defeat of my comrades and I at Sailor’s Creek, I realized it was time I moved on.  Some people would say I “high-tailed it out of there.”  In this case, some people would most certainly be right.  A gentleman knows when he’s been beat.  I had no fear of being taken by the Home Guard as a deserter, as everyone knew that the…

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Goodbye, dear friends. Whatever the outcome, you will not be hearing from me again.

So we’ve come full circle at last, my dear readers. That is my story, at least, up until this very moment. I have written straight through the day and most of the night, as the clock is just now beginning to strike midnight. I could not rest or break from my trial, for fear of losing track and forgetting some grand detail. And my plan requires precision. Yes, readers, I have a plan. It may be mad, or it may be brilliant, but at this point, the two have bled together in my fever-ridden mind.… Continue